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We keep hearing the remark
That poetry does not really progress,
That we continue to be preoccupied with the same themes
As were the Sumerians, Greeks or Indians,
But then those who allege this, fail to understand that
Our language hasn’t gone beyond being maudlin.
As long as we have words like pain, remember, believe,
Miss, truth, memory, realize and shadows
We will stumble upon the same thoughts,
We will be mortified by the same feelings,
We will continue to be schmaltzy,
And not improve and grow.
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